


Louder Than Words

by TheWolvenStorm



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Caduceus Clay Has High Wisdom, F/M, Flirting, Missing Scene, Pining, Snowball Fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:41:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27891697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheWolvenStorm/pseuds/TheWolvenStorm
Summary: Missing Scene that occurs while they are aboard the Midnight Hammer. (Ep 113)The sudden projectile interrupts his thoughts and in an instant the Star Razor is in his hand and slashing through the Snowball aimed for his head.It doesn’t take someone smart as Caleb to know where it came from.
Relationships: Fjord/Jester Lavorre
Comments: 9
Kudos: 75





	Louder Than Words

The cold adds a sharpness to the sea salt air. Makes it crisp and fragile and real. Like the ice and the air has crystalized to sting Fjord's cheeks. To make everything clear. 

On a day like this, with no storms or snowfall, he can see for miles in every direction. Grey sky diffusing the pale light of sun, sharply cut at the horizon by the blindingly harsh white of the sheet, dotted by the jagged mountains of iceburgs. And below, where the bow of the Midnight Hammer cuts through the frost, the black depths. A monochome wasteland, as far as the eye can see. 

Save for the blue tiefling falling backwards into the pile of freshly fallen snow from the night before. Jester giggles as she carves snow angel in the icey powder before standing up to mold a snow statuette of a dick for her silhouette. 

"What do you think yer doin' lass!?" The gruff voice barks across the deck. Ruega Timbercall, the Midnight Hammer's first mate. A dwarven woman whose face is probably more frost than flesh. Her hair drawn into a too tight bun, the strands streaked with white. It might be age. It might be ice. She barks at Jester, explaining how they need to get to shoveling the snow off the deck. "Not playin' around in it." 

Fjord takes a step to intervene before there's any cause for trouble. To use what he's learned about diplomacy. To connect with Ruega. Sailor to sailor. To smooth things over before they have a chance to get rough. 

But he's not needed. Because Jessie smiles. That gorgeous, mischievous, playful smile and sets the dick snow statue down on her angel. 

And the frozen face of the first mate cracks. The frown lines and wrinkles stretch and split into a smile. A deep, coarse chuckle starts slow before it becomes a heavy, husky laugh that seems to shake the ice off the old dwarf. 

Jester joins in, her sweet snigger perking up Fjord's ears and like a trained dog salivating at the sound of a bell, a small smile quirks his lips.

"Beautiful," Cad murmurs, coming up alongside him, tearing his gaze away from Jester, the laughing dwarf, and the be-dicked snow angel. 

"Yes," Fjord coughs dryly, covering up a slightly embarrassed flush as he motions to the scenery around him. "Its amazing out here. So different from Rumblcusp and the other places we've sailed. Its not beaches and tropical plants but its still-" he pauses and inhales sharply. Taking in a lungful of the cold crystalline air. "-Breathtaking." 

"That too," Cadueces notes, in that dry way that indicates he sees through Fjord's misdirection. "But I was mostly referring to that." The firbolg tilts his head to the dwarven woman who is walking away from Jester with a friendly wave and a huge smile on her face, still chuckling warmly. "How long do you think it's been since she laughed that hard? What a gift." 

Fjord's eyes track the first mate as she returns to her duties. But only for a moment before they flick back to Jester. 

Jessie sighs, her smile fading to something more subtle as she turns and begins shuffling her snow angel and snow dick into a small pile with the side of her foot. There's something about her in these moments. When she thinks she's alone. When her boundless joy and chaos quiets. When that radiant energy wanes. When her focus turns inward. Something lonely and lovely. 

Its these moments when he feels the most drawn to her. A strange mix of curiosity and caution and… closeness. 

"You know, before we left," Cad starts again. "I was having a chat with Yasha about patience and apathy and regret and how all those things-" Cad's long fingers twirl around. each other "-tend to snowball into each other." 

Fjord leans against the railing of the ship. Bracing himself. Dueces never fails to surprise him. And so he waits. 

The Firbolg blinks the snowflakes out of his long eyelashes as he looks up at the blotchy grey sky. His floppy ears twitching as he seems to listen to the wind. The corner of his mouth lifting as the natural world seems to answer whatever silent question was posed. Condensed air clouding an exhale. 

"May I ask what's holding you back?" 

"With what?" Fjord answers. Knowing perfectly well what Cad's referring to. 

Cad chuckles and nods over to Jester. "I've been watching. As she's grown. As you've grown. Grown more honest about who you are. What you really want. About who you want to be." 

He feels a tingle in his tusks and in his hand. The urge to pick at them is a nervous compulsion leftover from his childhood. 

One that he can resist now. 

Because of her. 

"Whats holding you back?" Cad asks. "Whats keeping you from being honest about how you really feel?" 

The question draws a heavy sigh from Fjord and forces him to look down at his feet as he shuffles through the answers in his head. She deserves better than someone who already broke her heart once. He's still figuring himself out. He doesn't know how to talk about those sort of feelings. He knows how she felt once but who knows what she feels now. 

Cad waits through his silence. Leaning on his staff, letting the breeze brush through his hair and watching the ice as it flows past the ship.

"I…" Fjord starts after a long minute. Thinking back to his conversation with Beau on Rumblecusp. The same tricks wont work with Cad. Not misdirection. Not changing the subject. Not carefully couched truths. Only honesty or dismissal will do. "I'm not sure if acting on those feelings is the best choice. There's so much going on and it would… complicate things." 

Cad blinks again and slowly nods his understanding. 

“I like this.” Fjord admits. “I like feeling… how I feel, and I don’t feel any particular pressure to act on them” 

“But you do act on them” Cad smiles and Fjord blanches. “In a thousand different ways. Little things, like making sure we always stop by the bakery whenever we go into town. Or jumping 30 feet over a volcanic caldera to beg her to not sacrifice herself for the arrogance of a fey." 

“Any of us would have done that."

"Or walking her mother home and making sure she's comfortable, when you could have been with us resolving the situation with Essek." 

"You all had Essek under control"

"How about how you always move to protect her when we're in danger. Or how you are the first to try and comfort her when things go wrong. How you always make sure the more-" Cad smiles knowingly "-vocal members of our party don't speak over her. How you always check in with her, and make sure she's doing alright." 

Fjord looks at his feet, scraping the snow beneath his boots in a nervous kick as he absorbs Cad's observations and berates himself for being such a damned fool. 

“Actions speak louder than words,” the Firbolg says, resolutely. “But an action can be misinterpreted as easily as words can. But together, words and actions, create clarity and resolve." 

They turn to look back at Jester, who absently gathers the snow into a pile before she leans up against the shovel and stares out at the sea. 

"Love makes people.” Cad repeats the words he had said to Trent Ikithon not a week ago. “It shapes the choices they make, the paths they take. You’re right when you say, it’ll complicate things. People are complicated, and love makes them act in ways we can’t always expect. Vulnerability can be uncomfortable, but it's our reaction to that discomfort that allows us to grow closer, and to show our love for one another. 

Fjord swallows and feels a flush travelling up his neck to his cheeks. The cold air stinging even more with the fresh rush of heat. Love. The word he's avoided. The one he's carefully circumvented with Beau on Rumblecusp. He adores Jester. He protects Jester. He respects Jester. He enjoys every moment he has with Jester. He cares very much for Jester. 

Love is just the word that means all those things together. 

But the word makes his palms itch, and his tongue worry along the roots of his tusks and makes him laugh nervously while scratching at the back of his head. 

"Yea. I'll... I'll-uh-keep that in mind." 

Cad nods, and looks around, an odd smirk crossing his face for a split second. 

"I'm gonna make some tea, good luck." 

Fjord watches Dueces leave. Clenching and unclenching his fist in an effort to calm his rapid pulse and ease the ache left in his chest. First Veth's teasing, then Beau, now Cad. Who next? Yasha? Seems unlikely, she and Beau have their own things to work through. 

The sudden projectile interrupts his thoughts and in an instant the Star Razor is in his hand and slashing through the Snowball aimed for his head. 

It doesn’t take someone smart as Caleb to know where it came from. 

The blue tail sticks out from behind the ballista, swishing happily. His ears prick at the sound of another snowball being crafted and he slowly reaches to scrape up some of the snow from the stairwell. 

She’s faster, not to mention she had a head start, and has a plentiful supply of snow at the ready. And a fresh snow ball pelts him in the side before he even has a handful of snow gathered. 

“C’mon Fjord!” she teases, popping up from behind the ballista, another snowball in hand ready to launch. Her cheeks flushed purple with excitement as she waits for his counter-attack. His snowball is small and pitiful but she squeals with delight as it hits the ballista. Disintegrating into a puff of powder that covers her in a thousand glittering freckles. 

Another blob of snow lobs past him. A clumsy throw that he easily dodges before sprinting after her. Vaulting over the ballista as she scrambles behind some crates. Leaving him a cache of premade snowballs. 

Jester pops her head up, her nose just barely peeking over the edge, before yelping and ducking away as he throws two in quick succession. One going over the wooden railing and the other smacking the crate. 

"I have all your balls, Jester" he announces, putting extra emphasis on the balls. But only because it'll make her laugh. "Do you surrender?" 

"Never!" Launching herself up, one fist grasping the hem of her dress. Her skirt full of snow roughly shaped into ready to fire balls. 

"Shit-fuck" He swears and dives for cover as she pelts him square in the back. Flecks of ice melt and trail down his spine. The frigid droplets making him shiver. He manages to get a few off at her. Each of them circling around the ballista. Their laughter punctuated by her squeals and his swears whenever a snowball happens to hit a target. 

He's ready to launch another volley at her when he hears her heavy 'ooof' and a new eruption of giggles. Shes on her back. Her skirt covered in a fine dusting of power. A groove at her feet indicating where she slipped on the ice. 

"I guess that's why we're supposed to shovel the snow off the deck." She answers, breathless and beautiful and bright.

"Its a bit of a safety hazard" he adds, smiling and extending his hand to help pull her up. And then she's in his space, standing so very close to him. The sun catching each of the little ice flecks on her cheeks, her brow, her lips. 

They draw tight into a smile. The points of her fangs poking into her lip as she reaches for him.

"I got snow in your hair." She muses, violet eyes going soft and thoughtful as she pulls off a mitten. He doesn't dare move, doesn't dare breath as she carefully picks out the offending flakes. Her delicate touch tearing open a new ache in his chest. "There," she says, with a long lingering touch that brushes the side of his cheek "All better." 

"Thank you, Jessie." A hoarse whisper escapes his tight throat. 

"You're welcome, Fjord." 

She's still so close. Her chin tipped up, with a small smile on her face. His palms burn in spite of the cold. Urging him to slip his hand around her waist and pull her even closer. To smooth them up her back and press her against him. To lean down and… 

"We should probably clear the snow before someone else slips." He says instead. And a stone sinks in his stomach as disappointment flickers in her eyes. Deflating her shoulders just a touch as she sighs and steps away. The loss of her body heat sending a sudden wave of shivers down. 

"You're right," she smiles softly, her 'Im-Jester-and-everything-is-super-fine' smile. The one she hides behind too often. "Someone could slip and fall overboard and then we'd have to stop and jump in after them and we'd turn into people popsicles and I dont think we'd taste very good." She rambles as she turns to find where she had discarded the shovel and begins to lazily scrape at the deck. 

But then she gets excited again. Her imagination spinning faster than she can talk. "I'd be a blueberry popsicle, and Veth would be lemon and Caleb would be orange and OH! Yasha would be that black moss flavor." 

"I think Veth's would be whisky," he chuckles, digging through the crates of supplies till he finds another shovel to help her. 

"That sounds like an awful popsicle, Fjord." She giggles as he starts breaking up the chunks of ice at the base of the ballista. "Oh and, of course, you would be lime." 

"Naturally, What about Beau?" He prompts, unable to contain the smile on his face as she fills the air with playful speculation. The warmth of her presence flooding his chest as he helps her with the menial task. A warmth he's afraid to acknowledge by name. 

Soon, he tells himself, as she decides that Veth would actually be a pineapple popsicle and not a lemon one. Soon he'll find the right words to go with the feeling in his chest. Soon he'll pull her close and not hold back. 

But for now, his actions speak for him, and he hopes that she hears.

**Author's Note:**

> i had a whole angsty character death story planned butttttt I write slow and then Travis Wiilingham kissed his wife and I was like... Fjuck Angst lets get some flirting and pining up in here. 
> 
> OMMY NOMMY NOMMY  
> PUT COMMENTS IN MY BELLY.


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